The morning sun filtered through Zephyr's curtains with a gentle promise—an unspoken reminder of chores undone and lives still unravaged by shadows. He stretched on his bed, feeling the residual warmth of last night's feeding ritual pulse beneath his skin. His HP gauge held steady at 50/100; his MG gauge remained low at 15%.
He swung his legs over the side and yawned, the weight of anticipation already knotting his shoulders. Today's quest loomed: Moonlight Exposure – Achieve MG ≥ 50%. That would require more than standing beneath the sky. He'd need the lunar sanctum of the Gray Court, where moon's tears and runic conduits amplified the ritual light.
BreakfastIn the cramped kitchen, Lyra drizzled honey over fresh yogurt while their mother flipped dosas on the stovetop. Corin leaned against the counter, headphones around his neck, scrolling through the recorder's files.
"Morning," Zephyr greeted, pouring chai into his favorite chipped mug.
Elara glanced over her shoulder. "I've spoken with Sable. The Moonfall Market opens at midnight—you'll want to arrive early to secure a moon's tear crystal."
Zephyr nodded, sipping chai. Spice tickled his tongue. "I need specifics—location, contact."
Lyra slid a folded scrap of paper across the table. "Coordinates scribbled here. Sable said to show this at the entrance."
Corin unhooked his headphones. "I've mapped the quickest route through the subway tunnels. But be careful—Covenant scouts sometimes patrol the old lines."
Zephyr tucked the paper into his pocket. "Thanks. I'll leave after dinner."
His mother set a dosa before him. "Eat up. You'll need energy." Her eyes held both pride and fear. "Be safe, Zeph."
He offered a reassuring smile, though his heart pounded at the thought of venturing into the moonlit underworld.
Afternoon PreparationsBack in his room, Zephyr laid out tools on his desk: the rebuilt primer scroll, the rune-talisman, vials of distilled water, and a small pouch of lunar salt. He reviewed Sable's instructions:
"Place moon's tear on the altar's basin. Chant the Rune of Reflection while anointing your skin with lunar salt dissolved in water."
He traced the glyph diagram on the primer: a circle bisected by three crescents. Beneath it, faint notes in Sable's handwriting: "Expose skin; no barriers. Allow moonlight to penetrate rune field."
He taped a panel of his bedroom window open—curtains drawn aside—to let residual moonlight spill in. The afternoon haze filtered the light to a milky glow, but he needed more than that. He would rely on crystal amplification.
When dusk fell, Zephyr joined his family for a quick meal of rice and dal. Lyra chattered about school projects; Corin reviewed schematics by lamplight; Elara pressed cooling poultices into Zephyr's shoulder, the scar from the scout's claws still tender.
"Rest well," she said, wrapping the poultice. "Moonlight will do the rest."
He nodded, gathering his satchel. Inside: the scroll, talisman, a moon's tear crystal wrapped in cloth, and vials. Outside, the city's neon glow began to flicker on.
Zephyr descended into the subway station, heart thundering against his ribs. The tiled walls gleamed under fluorescent bulbs, but in the depths, darkness waited. At the last station before abandoned lines, he showed the scribbled coordinates to a silent attendant—an elder in gray robes whose eyes glowed like embers. Without a word, she waved him through a rusted gate.
Beyond lay a narrow tunnel: arched ceilings streaked with moonstone inlays that pulsed faintly. The path narrowed, the air cooled, and soft chanting drifted from the darkness ahead. Zephyr's pulse synced with the hum of the inlaid stones—a prelude to the sanctum.
The tunnel opened into a cavernous chamber lit by suspended lanterns of glowing moon-crystal. Booths carved from stone flanked both sides: vendors displayed vials of liquid moonlight, woven runic garments, and trays of bone-carved talismans. The vaulted ceiling arched high, dotted with natural fissures through which real moonlight filtered, merging with the artificial glow.
Zephyr's eyes adjusted to the blue-tinged light. He clutched the moon's tear crystal in his palm until its surface warmed, then approached a cloaked merchant whose stall was marked by a banner of silver wolves.
"Bloodwolf Initiate," the merchant greeted, voice echoing. "Crystal exchange?"
Zephyr produced the cloth-wrapped moon's tear. The merchant unwrapped it, examining the small, teardrop-shaped crystal that shimmered with inner radiance. "Pure," she murmured, tucking it into a shallow basin on the stone altar behind her. The crystal floated, spinning in a wisp of light.
"Prepare for exposure," she said, stepping back. Zephyr placed his satchel beside him, heart pounding.
He rolled up his shirt sleeve, exposing the rune talisman carved into his skin. He uncorked a vial of lunar salt solution and splashed it across his forearms and neck. The salt stung faintly, but the rune beneath his wrist glowed brighter.
Zephyr knelt before the altar. The merchant lit a circle of candles around him—smoke rising in curling spirals. The crystal's glow intensified, bathing Zephyr in pale light. He opened the primer and recited the chant, voice echoing off stone:
"In moon's reflection, I stand revealed,Bind my spirit to lunar field.Shadow and blood in harmony,Grant me strength, set my hunger free."
As he spoke, the crystal's light filtered through fissures overhead, actual moonbeams piercing the chamber in silver shafts. Zephyr closed his eyes, feeling warmth suffuse every fiber of his being.
Ping.
Moonblood Gauge: 15% → 35%
He continued, voice steady, sweat beading at his temples.
"Lunis—Hemaleth—Converge as one,Moon's debt repaid, let power run."
The crystal pulsed. The rune on his wrist shimmered in time. Zephyr opened his eyes to see a ribbon of pale light swirl around his arms, then cascade over his shoulders in wave after wave. The MG gauge flickered:
Ping.
35% → 55%
He inhaled sharply. The chamber seemed to vibrate; candles flickered as though caught in an unseen breeze. The chanting of distant vendors hushed to a soft murmur, and all attention centered on the floating crystal and the glowing glyph beneath Zephyr's skin.
When his voice fell silent, the crystal's spin slowed and finally stilled. The glow dimmed to a steady luminescence. Zephyr pressed a hand to his chest, heart pounding with new energy.
System Notification: "Quest [005] Complete: MG ≥ 50%. New Quest: Hybrid Form Test (Midnight Wolf) — HP ≥ 50% & MG ≥ 50%."
He cracked a grin. Both requirements were met. The promise of hybrid form loomed.
The merchant nodded, bowing her head. "Use your gift wisely, Bloodwolf." She tucked a small parchment into his hand, inked with strains of runic code. "For your next step."
Zephyr stowed the parchment and replaced his shirt sleeve. The chamber's cool air settled around him. He exhaled with relief—both fear and exhilaration coursed through him.
As he retraced his steps through moonstone tunnels, his thoughts raced: the power of hybrid form, the system's next test, the legacy of his mother. Yet beneath it all, excitement burned brighter than any dread.
Above ground, the city lights glimmered. Zephyr emerged through the subway grate into a quiet plaza, the real moon drifting high overhead—a silent witness to his awakening.
He closed his eyes, lifting his face to the night sky. The promise of power tingled in his veins, the system's interface humming behind his eyelids.
Tomorrow, he whispered. I become the Midnight Wolf.